Casino Royale

In Casino Royale (a remake so loosely connected to the 1967 farce that it might as well be considered a new movie), new 007 Daniel Craig is the toughest, edgiest James Bond yet. His professional veneer—“armor,” as Bond girl Vesper Lynd calls it—is always up front, even when danger has receded into the background. He gets plenty of time to hone his character. Casino Royale takes 2 1/2 hours to tell its story, with changes of pace that are both refreshing and frustrating. With his newly minted license to kill, Craig’s Bond takes off after a bomb-maker with ties to international terrorists. His capture techniques are far from subtle, and Bond finds himself in the bad graces of M (Judi Dench). On his own, sort of, he follows the trail to freedom-fighter financier Le Chiffre (Mads Mikkelsen), who has blood for tears and breathes well for someone who sucks on an inhaler so often. With laptops, cell phones and terrorism, this is no Cold War epic like Ian Fleming’s 1953 novel, from which the screenwriters liberally riff. Casino Royale may have some bad beats and take a while to get to the payoff, but it’s a winning proposition.